


The Sun Shone In

by Mightybignein (Blueberryshortcake)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: C1 Spoilers for the Briarwood Arc, Caduceus might have a crush, Caleb likes popular fiction, Gen, Mention of C1 as historical fiction, Scanlan Shorthalt got no credit in the making of this epic poem, Zadash downtime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 12:33:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16408592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueberryshortcake/pseuds/Mightybignein
Summary: Caduceus likes broken things and the stories they tell, but doesn't enjoy reading. Caleb has a poem worth sharing.





	The Sun Shone In

“I didn’t expect you to take interest in that sort of thing,” Mr. Caleb said.

 

Caduceus looked up at him and smiled from his recline on his bed. He had been examining the broken blade he had bought from the Pumats at the Invulnerable Vagrant. The shopping and downtime had been good. Everyone was looking more relaxed now, putting distance from their latest travels. Caduceus found the city… fascinating. There was so much to see that it was overwhelming. Focusing on less made him more comfortable. Jester was a good help. She knew what she wanted and delighted in showing him new things so Caduceus didn’t get lost in the many shops and services of the city alone. 

 

“What sort of thing?” There were a lot of things that were interesting him at the moment. Even outside that of the large city. The new weather, the different plant life, sparse as it was this closed in, his new companions. 

 

“Swords,” Caleb answered. 

 

“Mm, it’s not so much the sword,” Caduceus put the blade away and turned to the wizard. 

 

It had been a bit of a surprise after the days on the road  squished together that all of them were splitting up into rooms. He had tried to figure out how that had worked. Jester and Beau in one, Caleb and Nott in another, Fjord and him in the last without any consultation between the others. It was just a given to them. He and Fjord didn’t speak much, his new half-orc companion was quiet, reflective. Caduceus sensed it wasn’t necessarily that Fjord was a quiet person, but that after what had happened between Mr. Caleb, Miss Beau and Nott losing him and finding him again he needed time. Caduceus didn’t push, and didn’t ask where he was going when Fjord packed a travel bag. 

 

“Tell the others I’ll be back as soon as possible,” He had said. Caduceus nodded easily in response, told the others at breakfast the next day. 

 

“When is he coming back?” Jester pressed.

 

“When he can,” Caduceus repeated diligently. Jester groaned. 

 

That meant Caduceus found himself alone in the room. After the burst of life and energy he got from camping and being so close with the others after so many seasons with only himself as company he suggested that maybe he might bunk with them in one of the other rooms. “I don’t really need a room for myself,” He explained. 

 

“I’ll take it! I have… THINGS to do, SECRET things!” Nott said scurrying in. Caducus blinked slowly.

 

“She works with chemicals at times and it can stink up the place,” Caleb said mildly, “So it might be for the best.”

 

“Club house!” Jester crowed rushing in after Nott.  

 

It meant he and Caleb were sharing a room. Well, he and Caleb and Nott still. After spending the day doing her ‘secret things’ she would sneak back in late at night and end up curled up by Caleb’s side.  

 

It was nice, sharing with them. 

 

Caduceus didn’t feel awkward from Fjord’s company, but he did get the sense that Fjord felt awkward from him. He had already called him ‘Molly’ twice before he had taken off on his journey. 

 

Fjord needed time. Caduceus had seen that before, many many times. 

 

But Caleb he felt comfortable with. The wizard was quiet. He didn’t say much that didn’t need to be said. He was a calm presence amid the chaos of Zadash. Steady and soft.   

 

He enjoyed Nott’s company as well, but he didn’t see much of her over the next two weeks.  

 

It was cozy, another living being in his space again. A being who didn’t see him as a mystery or a comfort from death, but just as… a companion. Maybe a friend… mm no. Not yet, but soon. 

 

Caleb was a bit of a broken person, it would take a while. 

 

“I like broken things,” Caduceus answered prompted by his thoughts. “They always have the most interesting stories.”

 

“Ah, do you like stories Mr. Clay?” Caleb flopped down onto his own bed. He pulled out another book, a new one.

 

“I do,” Caduceus said. “You have a new book?”

 

“Ja, an epic poem. It is about a place taken by fiends and how a new force of hope rose from the people of the city. It’s called: Resident Evil.*”

 

Caduceus chuckled. “The title isn’t very good, but it does sound exciting.”

 

“It makes sense when you read it. Because it’s about the residence, and the evils facing them--I can lend it to you after if you like.” 

 

“I’m not a big reader,” Caduceus replied.

 

“I thought you liked a good story.”

 

“Oh, I do, I just don’t find books interesting.” Caduceus waved his hand. Caleb’s brow furrowed, trying to figure him out. Caduceus offered him a smile. Something dawned on his friend.

 

“You know… that does explain a lot..” 

 

“Hm?”

 

“About… not knowing about things like whisky and smut shops.” Caduceus had got the sense a ‘smut shop’ was something titillating from Jester and Beau’s reactions, but Caleb didn’t seem affected by it.  

 

“Do books have those sort of things?”

 

“They have the experience of those sort of things, some of them at least.” 

 

Caduceus shrugged. “I don’t see the appeal if I’m honest, Mr. Caleb.”

 

Caleb seemed at a loss about this trying to figure out how to convince him. 

 

“It’s a very exciting story,” He offered wiggling the book. Caduceus chuckled. 

 

“I’m sure it’s very grand, but it’s all just… words on a page,” He couldn’t really explain it. He had learned to read at the usual age, taught by some of his older brothers and sisters, and found it dull. A monotone voice describing things he couldn’t see. Plants, and people, and nature were far more interesting told many more stories than what he found in the books gently pushed on him. Mr. Caleb looked quietly disappointed. 

 

“Would you read it to me, Mr. Caleb? … You have a nice voice.” He would rather Mr. Caleb be quietly happy.

 

Mentioning smut shops hadn’t fazed him, but now the very tips of Mr. Caleb’s ears had gone pink. He looked up, just a little shyly at Caduceus, on the edge of an emotion, a step away from eagerness. 

 

“I don’t really like reading, but I do like stories,” Caduceus said again. Stories needed a voice, Mr. Caleb had a nice one. 

 

Caleb finally nodded and cracked open the book not saying more to their conversation, but jumping straight into the poem. 

 

Caduceus lay on his side watching the human’s expressive face as he told the story of another land far across the ocean. Heroes who were larger than life, but very much real people. The tragic hero’s descent into darkness and his escape with the help of the story’s main character the bard himself that wrote the piece. 

 

Caduceus could see the story now on Caleb’s face, in his tone. The darkness and tragedy and humour. His excitement and fondness for the characters that made Caduceus fond for them as well. 

 

“You like the thief,” Caduceus said in amusement, a soft interruption taken with enthusiasm by Caleb.

 

“Ja, he is…” He hesitated, but pushed on. “He is very brave. Very different from me, I am a coward. Despite the mistakes he makes he rushes forward, not out of folly like some of his friends seem to think, but out of love, out of knowing what’s right… he wants to protect them. He goes in the Vampire’s chambers thinking he might find evidence for his friend during the King’s Feast, he rushes into a fight that is surely a trap to save the captured Lady while outnumbered and nearly dies, he uses magic to escape the trap set by the vampire, but sets off the trigger to the acids and is even captured as a result. He… makes all these mistakes but he fixes them too…”

 

_ I wish I was like that _ . Was unsaid. 

 

“Who is your favourite Mr. Clay?”

 

“I like the ‘gunslinger.’” He wasn’t actually sure what a gun was. It seemed to send out some sort of explosive magic, but it wasn’t so much the weapon, but the character. How Caleb read his parts, with a soft empathetic pity. The Gunslinger was a different man than Caduceus. He lacked mercy, was fueled by vengeance and anger letting grief attract a demon to him. He was an idiot. A fool in Caduceus’ eyes, but he pushed forward. Determination put him on a straight path toward his goals. Caduceus envied that. He still wasn’t sure what to do. The Wildmother hadn’t spoken to him in this noisy city. He wished for the Gunslinger’s grit and certainty. 

 

He let Caleb continue on. The Divine intervention of the angelic gnome, the twisting betrayal of the gunslinger’s sister. The hurried terror and agony of the thief when his sister fell and they couldn’t resuscitate her. Caleb’s rhythm and words. 

 

“And as the sky cleared, the Residence for the first time in so long,

 

Found no fear in the falling dusk, no terrible cold, or chilling mist

 

They saw the sun, setting after so long.

 

They saw the sun. 

 

The heroic Gnome, their leader and most handsome among them pointed up at the clear sky: “Here comes the sun, it’s alright.”

 

And it was.

 

The sun shone in.”

 

Caduceus clapped enthusiastically. Mr. Caleb rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks red. 

 

“It was a  _ very _ good story,” Caduceus said. “Very good. You’re a good story teller.”

 

“I’m just reading what the author wrote.”

 

Caduceus shook his head. “You made it…” He let out a breath not sure how to properly convey it. “You made it… real. I don’t know how you can get so much from letters on a page, Mr. Caleb.” 

 

“It’s all right there.”

 

Caduceus wondered about that. Now that the story was over he let his eyes close, but continued to listen to Caleb’s breathing. He let the story come back to him. 

 

“You didn’t like the gunslinger.”

 

“No… it wasn’t that I didn’t like him,” Caleb answered. With his eyes closed Caduceus couldn’t see his face, but there was something in his tone. Soft and low. “He just… reminded me of another story. His ending was happier though.”

 

“Do you think he deserved it?”

 

“I don’t know,” Mr. Caleb said. “The poem claims to be based on true events, but I don’t think real life works like that. That you can sell your soul to a demon and end up standing in the light.”

 

Caduceus hummed. Considered this. “Reality is... tricky.”

 

“Ja, ja, it is…”

 

Sadness.

 

Caduceus wondered about Caleb’s own story. The thing that made him broken, what it would take to reseal his cracks. Nott was a good start. Fire to melt gold. Maybe she would be able to fit his pieces back together and make him stronger. He wondered too if he would be a help at all. He wondered if Mr. Caleb would be a help for him. If Caleb might help Caduceus fit together some of his own broken parts again. 

 

That was quietly what he was hoping for…

 

But it was too early for that. They weren’t friends… yet. 

 

But soon. 

 

“If you find another good story, and if you have the time, I would love to hear you read again, Mr. Caleb.”

 

“Certainly, Mr. Clay. It would be my pleasure.” 

**Author's Note:**

> *Resident Evil is the title of an Epic Poem Scanlan Shorthalt said he would write about the events of Whitestone and the Briarwoods.


End file.
